


The One Where They Go to the Beach

by DragonThistle



Series: Days You Think You'll Forget (but I kept a scrapbook full of polaroids) [8]
Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Day At The Beach, Four Idiots Go to the Beach and Make Fools of Themselves: The Fan Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:29:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27674048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonThistle/pseuds/DragonThistle
Summary: The obligatory beach episode.
Relationships: Friendship - Relationship, No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: Days You Think You'll Forget (but I kept a scrapbook full of polaroids) [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1959427
Kudos: 19





	The One Where They Go to the Beach

“Hey, let’s go to the beach!”

“Hell no.”

So of course, they go.

* * *

Edd drags a heavy cooler that sloshes with ice and drinks down to the water front, promising it’s not just filled with Cola. He’s laughing while he says it though so no one quite believes him. Tord says so and gets an ice cube down the back of his shirt when he turns away. His high pitched scream makes the others laugh.

They wander down the beach for a while, looking for a place to set up. Ideally a place with few people and no screaming children. The day is a little cloudy and there’s a cool breeze coming in off the ocean, but it’s still beautiful outside and a lot of people have had the same idea to get in the sunshine while they can. Tord’s already fidgeting as he side-eyes the groups they pass, hunching into his open jacket and pulling his hood over his head. When Tom starts grumbling about having to carry everything back to the car, they give up and make camp in the shadow of a cliffside that stretches out towards the ocean like an accusatory finger. It’s not a popular spot, given that it’s a bit rocky and is certainly chillier in the shade, but it’s perfect when you’re friends with a ginger who forgets to put on sunscreen and an introvert that burns faster than the bacon he loves to eat. 

The second they’ve finished setting up, Tord discards his jacket and takes off like a shot for the water. Tom chases after him, pulling his shirt off and dropping it on the sand as he goes. The two of them splash into the shallows, Tord’s cackling echoing across the beach as he kicks himself out of Tom’s reach.

“Those two have no appreciation for the finer things.” Matt sticks his nose up at the pair attempting to splash each other in the water. He settles onto his beach chair, flicks his sunglasses over his eyes, and reaches into the cooler next to him to pull out a drink. He grimaces when he comes back with a Cola, and leans over the arm of his chair to rummage around for something else.

Edd doesn’t dignify him with an answer and jogs down the beach to the water, laughing loudly at Tord as Tom dunks him under the water. Edd peters about on the wet sand at the edge of the ocean for a bit, kicking at the waves and idly looking for anything interesting. When Tom calls him a pussy, Edd plunges into the water and roars after the other two, splashing and kicking and trying to soak anyone he can. There’s garbled laughter and a lot of flailing limbs and by the time the three of them have settled down, full of breathless giggles and flushed with excitement, Matt has wandered down to the edge of the water to watch them. He’s drinking from a can of something bright and fruity, unimpressed by their antics and more content to witness them making fools of themselves. 

“Come on in, Matt, the water’s great!” Tord rolls onto his back, kicking his feet to send up great splashes and pushing himself further out to sea.

“He won’t come in,” Tom shouts over the waves, his dark hair plastered down the sides of his face, “He’s ssccaaarrreeed~ He doesn’t wanna get his pretty hair weeeettt~”

“Aw, you think it’s pretty? Thank you!” Matt calls back in a teasing voice. Edd and Tord laugh as Tom scowls. 

Eventually they get bored of waiting for Matt to join them and start swimming about on their own. Tord keeps trying to see how long he can stay under water and how far down he can get. He’s a decent swimmer but his stamina is shit and he ends up gasping and flailing his way back into the shallows, too tired to keep treading water. Edd follows him back, watching the sandy bottom of the ocean for any cool looking shells or pretty rocks he can snag and bring home. He’s sifting some sand aside with his foot when Tom splashes past him, climbing out of the ocean and leaving a dripping trail up the beach as he runs back to their set up. He’s got something in his hands but neither Edd nor Tord manage to see what it is.

Tom runs up to Matt, who looks like he’s dozed off in the shade, and tips a glistening, dark bundle onto the redhead’s lap.

Matt shrieks like the devil’s stuck a hot poker up his ass and leaps off his chair. He’s howling and cursing, swatting at himself and chasing a cackling Tom back down the beach. Tom’s nearly crying with laughter when he stumbles back into the water. Matt’s hurling soggy bits of seaweed after him, swearing vengeance and promising that Tom should sleep with one eye open if he knows what’s good for him. Tom is breathless with laughter, ducking behind Edd and leaning against his friend’s back as his legs give out from underneath him. 

“Well, it got you in the water,” Edd says cheekily. Matt, waist deep in the shallows, scowls and splashes him in the face with a salty wave. 

“I’m going to go build a sandcastle,” Matt says haughtily, stomping out of the ocean and back onto shore, “And none of _you_ are invited!”

“Bet I can guild a better one.” Tord challenges, rising from the water. He stumbles when a wave smacks him in the back, swatting at Tom when the latter begins giggling again.

“And I bet _I_ can build an even _better_ one.” Edd retorts.

“Artist versus tech head?” Tom says, eager for a little competition, “I’ll judge.”

Tord frowns, “Why do you get to judge?” 

“‘Cause neither of you are a neutral party and I wanna see how funny shitty sandcastles look when I’m drunk.”

* * *

Tom doesn’t get drunk because he’s not stupid and he knows getting hammered near the ocean is as good as asking death out on a date to the firing range. So he sits on a towel in the sun, his still dripping hair plastered down his neck, and sips a can of Smirnoff Cola (because if he can’t be drunk he can at least be ironic or whatever the hell this is). The other three are bickering in the shadow of the cliffside, shoving and fighting over the cheap plastic shovels and buckets. None of them have started on anything that looks remotely like a sandcastle and Tom’s starting to doubt they’ll manage anything at all. 

But eventually, Edd’s bigger size wins out and he wrestles control of both the biggest shovel and several tower shaped molds from the other two. Sulking, Matt slinks away and begins scooping up his own piles of sand, occasionally glaring at Edd until he gets too caught up in his own work and forgets to be mad. 

Edd is enthusiastically shoveling the sand out of the way, looking for the wet, heavier stuff underneath. Nearby, Tord is doing the same, though in a more structured manner—he’s scooping sand out of the way in a wide circle, creating a deep valley with a single gap leading in and out of it. Ever the strategist, that one. 

Tom starts getting sleepy as the time goes by. The sun is hot, he’s tired from running around in the ocean, and the alcohol has left a warm and pleasant buzz sitting vaguely in his limbs. He has his chin in his hand, elbow propped on the beach towel, sprawled on his side, only half watching his friends digging in the sand. So he fails to pinpoint exactly when the sandcastle building competition becomes something else. 

Like a competition to see who can dig the deepest hole. 

Matt is occupied with his castle, which is actually looking rather good, all things considered. But Tord and Edd have abandoned their half constructed sand buildings in favor of racing each other to the center of the earth. Edd certainly has the strength and stamina to his advantage, but Tord is more strategic about his excavation; so it’s hard to say who’s actually getting more sand out of their hole. They’re both flinging wads of dirt into the air, adding them to the large piles around them, grinning breathlessly as they dig and dig and dig. 

A volley of dirt smacks Matt in the side of the face, sending him sputtering and pawing at his eyes and mouth, “HEY! What’s the big idea!? Watch where you’re chucking that stuff!”

Edd pokes his head up over the mounds of sand around him, grinning, “Sorry Matt!”

Matt opens his mouth to retort when Tord comes scrambling out of the hole he’s dug and bats at Edd’s shoulder to get his attention. He’s desperately trying to stifle his giggles, a warped grin on his face as he points down the beach, snickering under his breath. 

Tom has fallen asleep on the beach towel. 

He’s fair game.

* * *

“He’s going to kill us when he wakes up.”

“ _If_ he wakes up.”

“Matt, that literally has no context—hey! Is that one of my Colas!”

“Wait! Edd, don’t—“

Edd spits the vodka soda out in Tord’s face.

* * *

Tom wakes up because his body feels heavy and he can’t move.

He struggles, blinking in the bright sunlight, squinting against it and trying to find his bearings. His arms are pinned to his sides and the only part of his body he can seem to move is his head. A flat plane is stretched out almost at eye level, with dips and rises and something grainy and familiar about it…

Tom puts the pieces together and lets out wordless scream of rage, whipping his head back and forth and snapping his teeth. In front of him, Edd, Matt, and Tord fall over each other laughing, howling and clutching at each other as they watch Tom struggle.

“YOU DUMB FUCKS!” Tom shouts from where he’s buried up to his neck in the sand, stuck upright in one of the stupid holes that had been dug earlier, “GET ME OUT OF HERE! I’LL GUT YOU! I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU! DIG ME UP RIGHT NOW!”

Tord falls to the ground wheezing, his arms wrapped around his stomach, tears in his eyes. He’s breathless, choking on a garbled mix of Norwegian and English, begging for mercy as his heels kick the air. Edd almost joins him, doubled over with his hands on his knees, absolutely cackling with horrible glee. Matt can hardly hold his phone still long enough to take pictures, leaning on Edd’s shoulder and snorting with laughter. The sight of their merriment only makes Tom even angrier, the volume of his shouts increasing and causing other beach goers to glance at them. Some of them even start laughing and that stokes the fire even more. 

Tom’s eyes start glowing a dangerous, vibrant purple. His gritted teeth lengthen into sharp points. The sand around him suddenly heaves.

“Uh oh.” Says Matt, the excitement fo the moment abruptly dropping from his expression.

Horns split through Tom’s forehead, the roots of his hair start turning dark violet, the color bleeding through his hair and spreading to his ears as they sharpen and stretch and fold into a more animalistic shape. Tom’s growling, proper growling, a low rumble in his throat. The sand around him shifts again and cracks.

“Uh, guys,” Matt starts shaking Edd’s shoulder, his eyes never leaving Tom’s transforming face, “Guys!” Edd and Tord are too caught up in their own laughter, Tord’s fist pounding into the sand as he howls, “GUYS!”

The sand buckles and then erupts upward like a geyser as Tom pulls himself free by sheer strength alone. Laughter turns to screams as Tom’s monster form charges out of the torrent of sand, a roar echoing from his open maw.

He’s not fully shifted, not quite as big as he could get, but he’s still huge—the size of a small bus, at least. And other patrons notice. Some snap pictures, some are too dumbstruck to move, and others make the sensible move of fleeing for their lives from the big purple monster that just exploded out of the sand.

They needn’t have worried. 

Tom’s only interested in three specific individuals. 

He snaps his jaws at their heels, chasing them down the beach and into the ocean with apparent glee as they run away screaming. His footfalls leave craters in the sand, the whipping of his long tail churning it behind him as he goes, his single black eye narrowed against the sun and the sand. When he plows into the ocean after his shrieking friends, he creates a massive wave that doubles back on itself and smashes into his chest. He hardly notices, sinking down in the water so that only his horns and eye are visible, glaring at his friends as they tread water.

Against all odds, Edd is still laughing.

* * *

They spend more time in the water.

Tom seems perfectly content to doggy paddle around in his monster form, diving deep underwater and surfacing again like some great mythical beast. He’s not exactly elegant in the water, splashing and flopping and causing a lot of waves and ruckus, but he’s clearly enjoying himself. Once the other people on the beach have realized that he’s not a threat, some of them have tried to venture closer but he growls and bristles at them every time, even the kids, and they soon learn to keep their distance. 

His friends are the only ones who can get anywhere near him and even then he gives them a hard time.

Eventually, Tom lets them clamber onto his back and ferries them around in the ocean for a bit. He tries to dive with them once but the force of his plunge yanks them all off and sends them spinning through the water. Tord is half choking and half laughing when he snags his fingers into Tom’s fur again, spitting up salt water at the image of the three of them toppling head over heels in the ocean. 

The sun is starting to tilt towards the horizon by the time they get too tired to carry on. 

Tom heads back to shore, shaking his shrinking frame and sending sheets of water cascading into the sand. It makes a muddy slurry wash down the beach and Tord races Edd through it, splashing both of them with mud and splattering the backs of their legs and swimming trunks. 

“If you’d stayed in monster mode, it would have been easier to carry the stuff back to the car,” Edd points out as they finally begin packing up.

“I am not a pack mule,” Tom glares at him and dumps the cooler into the sand, draining it of the melted ice. Edd sticks his tongue out and snatches his remaining cans of Cola from the mess.

The four of them trade tired nothings fueled by exhaustion; laughing at dumb jokes, kicking sand at each other, and shoulder checking one another to see who falls over first. All of them are easily ignoring the curious (or frightened) side eyes from the people they pass. They’re in their own little world.

On the way home, their hair crusty with saltwater and sand still clinging to their legs, they stop at a chippy and buy a bundle of food. The four of them are crammed in a cheap, plastic booth, their shoulders bumping and their knees touching underneath the table, flip-flops stepping on each other's toes. They steal chips from each other's baskets and fling straw wrappers across the sticky tabletop, laughing in the bright overhead lights. It gets darker outside. The bright lamps over the parking lot come on. Tord pops a ketchup packet in his own face and Edds is laughing so hard he starts crying.

Tord goes to clean himself up, sullenly grumbling and cursing his way to the bathroom, Matt flicks through the photos of the day on his phone. Most of them are selfies in the sunlight, but the latter half are moments of candid happiness. Tom and Tord, their backs to the camera, racing away towards the water, sand blurring into the air as they run. Edd crouching in the shallows with his fingers in the water, digging for shells. Matt's attempt at a sand castle. Burying Tom the hole Edd had dug, Tom still fast asleep despite being manhandled into place. Edd, Tord, and Matt posing in front of Tom's sleeping head sticking out of the sand. Then a series of photos of Tom waking up, realizing what's happened, and flying into a rage. The photos blur spectacularly as Tom's monster form tears up through the sand and the three are laughing over the photos, Tom shoving and kicking at both of them as they tease him. Matt puts his phone away with a yawn and says they should start heading home. Tom says he just doesn't want to get bullied anymore and Matt flips him the bird.

They shuffle out to the car, stretching and yawning and sucking in deep lungfuls of the cooling summer air. Tom lets his head thud against the back seat window, ready to take a nap on the way home as Edd pulls out of the lot and begins heading down the street. They've gone at couple of miles when Matt's phone plays its obnoxious jingle, lighting up beacon white in the car. Matt squints at it and then his face falls before he fumbles to answer it,

"Ah! T-Tord! We--"

" _YOU ASSHOLES!! YOU LEFT ME AT THE FUCKING CHIPPY! COME BACK AND GET ME RIGHT NOW! YOU ARE LITERALLY THE WORST! FUCK YOU! FUCK! YOU! SHUT UP, TOM, I CAN HEAR YOU LAUGHING! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU WHEN YOU GET HERE!! SHUT UP!! YOU BASTARDS!! HOW COULD YOU LEAVE ME BEHIND! COME GET ME RIGHT NOW OR I SWEAR TO FUCK--_ "

Tord's tinny voice is still ringing from the phone speakers, the audio cutting out when it becomes too much for the phone to handle, as Edd turns the car around. Tom's wheezing with laughter again, clutching at his stomach, begging for mercy because he's going to be sick if he keep laughing so hard. Edd has tears in the corners of his eyes as he struggles to maintain control of himself and Matt can only hold onto his phone and shake in silent laughter, kicking his feet under the dashboard in helpless gasps for air.

When he gets into he car, Tord is furious with them. He repeatedly kicks the back of Matt's seat until Matt can't help but start laughing all over again. Then he whips around and starts wailing on Tom, punching him in the shoulder until Tom stops thinking it's funny and starts fighting back. The pair break out into a full on squabble, pulling hair and throwing punches and kicking each other as much as they can, twisting in their seat belts. It's only Edd threatening to make them walk home that gets them to settle down. The drive quiets, stills, becomes the rhythmic, whirling sound of tires on asphalt and, eventually, the soft snores from Matt as he dozes off in the front seat. Edd turns on the radio, so quiet it can hardly be heard, hums along faintly with a tune he recognizes. When they get home, Edd has to carry Matt out of the car because no one can wake him up. But that's okay. They're tired. And they're home. And things have never been better.


End file.
